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Authors: KyAnn Waters

Ice Man (14 page)

BOOK: Ice Man
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He sifted his fingers through Rowan’s bangs. “How will you explain your new behavior to Brett? You must feed. Here in the club, you can feed and fuck slaves.”

“No, I won’t cheat on Brett. But the feeding…”

“With time your hunger increases.” That explained why Theron fed so often.

“I’ll figure it out.” The fight left him and he was speaking to Theron, his friend. “I want to be with Brett. I’ll do whatever I have to.” He would drink blood from slaves in the club until he could drink from Brett.

“Do you think he’ll be your blood slave?”

“No, never my slave.” Although he would tell Brett everything. No more secrets. “I trust him, Theron. I love him.”

“Then find a way to be together.”

“A blood bond?”

“If he wants it, yes, for you I would sire him.”

Rowan smiled. More than a moment, they could love an eternity. But first he had to go to him, show him how much his love meant and that Rowan wasn’t willing to let him go.

As he walked out of The Catacombs, he realized the freedom he felt in his new form. Free to walk away from the club, from Theron and never look back. Before going to Brett’s, he drove to his place. After a shower, he changed into his leather pants, a chain harness and knee-high combat boots. He finger combed his hair and slipped his tongue vibrator into his back pocket. Not only was Brett going to acknowledge their relationship, but Rowan was determined to show him all he’d miss by not giving them another chance.

Finally he fingered the sterling collar. When Brett had tossed the drawer, the collar had rolled and rested near his feet. Before that moment, he never would have considered becoming property. Wasn’t that why men wore them, to be tethered to their masters?

Rowan had seen the passion behind the gesture. In a perfect, wonderful way, Brett was giving Rowan the life he wanted. For Rowan, the collar represented a promise—the promise of a partnership.

He brought the collar to his neck, spun it around, and looking in the mirror, locked the bar into place. He put the key in his pocket, headed out the door and went to claim his man.

* * * * *

 

Anticipation tightened his stomach. Wearing the leather, chains and the collar had his body suspended in a state of arousal that had him hard, aching and ready.

Brett—for eternity.

How would Brett accept his new body? Already he felt stronger, his sense of smell heightened and his vision had become more acute. Headlights from the oncoming vehicles hurt his eyes. He narrowed his vision and wove through traffic to get downtown. Less than fifteen minutes later, he parked in front of the building. The lights were off on the sixth floor. But he had no doubt Brett was there. Probably feeling like shit, the same way he had been feeling, and wishing they could turn back time.

If only they could.

Rowan paused on the way into the building. Shit. He wasn’t wearing a coat. Leather and chains didn’t leave much to the imagination and Brett had an image to uphold. He sprinted back to the car. It wasn’t much but he found an old T-shirt on the floorboard in the backseat.

He shrugged it on and went back toward the building.

Glen greeted him at the door. Christ, he could smell the blood pumping through the man’s veins. Not that he felt like sinking his teeth into his neck, but more like when he smelled barbeque on a summer afternoon, it made his mouth water and his gums ache.

The elevator took him to the sixth floor. Once in the hall he stripped off his shirt and dropped it into the garbage can right outside the elevator doors. With each step toward Brett, his nipples tightened. He dug into his pocket and pulled out the key to the collar.

He took a deep breath. Truth time—the
whole
truth.

Knock. Knock.
He waited then knocked again.

Finally the door swung open. Brett, in loose linen pants, leaned against the door. The air between them crackled with tension-filled energy. Rowan couldn’t breathe as Brett’s gaze raked up his legs, paused on his crotch before taking in his torso, finally locking on the collar.

“I wondered where it went.” He blinked then his half-lidded eyes met Rowan’s. “I’m tired, pissed and just want to go back to bed.”

“Can we talk?”

“We don’t have anything left to say so what do you want, Rowan?”

The key felt hot in his hand. He ran his finger over the shape then held it out to Brett. “I want to come home.” The collar key rested in his open palm. Brett made no move to take it.

“Then go home.” He started to close the door.

Rowan put his hand out. He gathered his strength and tamped down the fear firing through his blood. “Please, I’m not leaving. Damn it, Brett, just listen.”

Brett opened the door and Rowan entered. Brett walked to the couch, plopped into the soft leather and took his half-finished drink from the table. “I’d offer you one but you don’t drink.”

“I’ll take a beer.”

Brett cocked an eyebrow. “Walking on the wild side, are you?”

“Something like that.”

Brett went to the kitchen and returned with a longneck. “What about Tac?”

“I swear, there was never anything between Tac and me.”

“I know what I saw.”

“Actually you don’t.” Rowan sipped the beer. “Tac is the king of kink and while I want to wear your collar—for you alone—I have never been interested in the club scene. I’ve never lied about that.”

“But you have lied to me?”

He stared at Brett. “Yes, I had to. I didn’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice. Your words, not mine.”

“Not this time and I can explain.” He stood and paced to the windows. “I hope you’ll believe me. I know you don’t trust me.” He pivoted and faced Brett. Damn, he was beautiful to look at, to touch, to love. “I’m going to trust you so that after we talk, you’ll know you can trust me. Trust in us.”

Brett leaned forward. “I’m listening.”

“We both have secrets.” He sighed and knew if they had any chance of making it, of being partners—forever—he had to tell him everything.

“I need to tell you about Theron.”

“Who is Theron?

“The man who found me on the streets, took me in and made me part of his family. Only Theron isn’t a man at all.” Pressure tightened Rowan’s chest but Brett listened, focused and in doing so confirmed this was love, and this was trust. Rowan was home. “At the club I’m known as Ice Man, Theron is known as Tac. The Catacombs isn’t just a fetish club, it’s a lair for vampires. Theron is a vampire. And so am I.”

Brett stared, disbelieving, but the strange tingle chasing along his spine told him that the words Rowan spoke were truth. Like puzzle pieces fitting into place, the full picture of the club became clear.

“Vampire?” Was it possible? Vampires only existed in stories, myth and legend. Some people believed vampires once existed. But then some people believed in global warming. Neither could be conclusively proven. “Rowan, that’s crazy. You’re not a vampire. They don’t exist.”

“Yes, they do. I do. All but seven went extinct in the sixteenth century.”

Brett shook his head then guzzled the last of his drink.

“That no one knows of our existence isn’t happenstance. It’s a carefully guarded secret worth killing over. Killing,” he said with a serious note in his voice. “Humans who know the truth end up serving them…
us
.”

“If it’s such a dangerous secret, why are you telling me?”

“Because I’m trusting in you and me.” There was a long moment of silence between them.

“A vampire? But how?”

“Five hundred years ago a deadly disease ravaged the vampire species. They were nearly destroyed.” Rowan sat on the couch, facing Brett. “But seven survived. Theron was one.” He lowered his head. “Those seven control their own sects. Theron is unwavering in his rules. I couldn’t tell you about my relationship with him.” He lifted his gaze. “I’ve been his blood slave since the night he found me on the streets.” He shook his head. “I can’t explain the lure of hosting. It isn’t vile or violent. Magic weaves between vampire and host. Maybe it’s dark magic. They call it the Zenith. After the first time, I was hooked.”

“Jesus, it sounds like a drug.”

“In some ways, yes. A pure, unmatched high and I couldn’t say no.” He placed his hand on Brett’s thigh. “Until I met you.”

“So you’re like a vampire blood slave to Theron?”

“No, blood slaves are human—but they are
slaves
to the hosting. Theron wouldn’t let me go.”

Brett covered Rowan’s hand where it rested on his thigh. “You’re cold.”

Rowan gave a snort. “One of the many changes I’m going through.” He gazed into Brett’s eyes. “There was only one way out. Tonight Theron became my sire.”

Brett swallowed, leaned back against the cushion and listened to Rowan spin an unbelievable tale. Only he did believe every heart-wrenching word that spilled from his lips. At times, Rowan’s voice was whisper soft. Through it all, Brett was hit with the crushing weight of all Rowan had gone through for them to be together. He was humbled. He was hurt. He should’ve been there for him.

Indecision quickly and quietly became acceptance. “What does this mean for us?”

The first real smile curled Rowan’s lips. “Nothing has to change tonight. I’ve known of vampires for a long time. In my own happy world, you’d choose to become vampire and make a blood bond with me and we’d spend eternity loving, laughing and fucking. Isn’t that what every man wants?”

Fucking for eternity did sound nice. But vampire? He couldn’t wrap his mind around it as reality, yet sitting with Rowan he knew, deep down,
knew
that Rowan spoke the truth.

Brett’s heart pounded. There was so much to consider. He had kids, a public life and a reason to keep his private life private. As a vampire, Rowan needed the same thing.

“Do all vampires have blood slaves?”

Rowan shook his head. “No, a special connection happens during the Zenith. A vampire and his host can read each other’s thoughts.”

“Christ, so when we were together Theron really was there.”

“That first night you told me to get Tac out of my head, I couldn’t explain how impossible that would be or how much I wished I could. During the Zenith is also the only time a vampire feels warmth, only time he feels a heartbeat, and the only way he can orgasm.”

Brett shifted and stood from the couch. He ran his fingers through his hair. “So who are you going to feed from?” Jealousy had knifed through his gut with the thought of Rowan fucking anyone else. This was worse. “And feeding arouses a vampire, right? Tac…Theron, whatever you want to call him was your lover because you fed his hunger.”

“Yes. After the first night you and I were together, Theron and I came to an agreement. Blood without sex. When you saw us tonight, together, I was coming from his chamber.”

Brett stood, facing the window. Rowan came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his torso. He placed a soft kiss to his neck. Brett flinched and jerked away. “What are you doing? Were you going to bite me?”

Rowan sucked in breath and closed his eyes. “No, but the desire is strong, like an increasing ache.”

“Hunger pains?” Brett gasped as fangs dropped from Rowan’s gums.

“I can’t help it,” he swore. “I want to bite, to feed. I want you. But I won’t.” He gritted his teeth and the fangs retracted. “But to be safe, you better keep your flesh away from my mouth. Fuck, I can smell your blood…and your arousal.”

His cock was hard and pulsing. An invisible pull clutched at Brett. His veins swelled and his skin heated. “Why is it I want to feed you?”

“God, don’t tease me. Remember what I told you. Once was never enough for me. What if it isn’t for you?”

“Don’t bite me.” Brett turned and started up the stairs to the loft. He glanced over his shoulder. “Are you coming to bed?”

Rowan followed him up the stairs. “Brett, what if I can’t control myself? I’ve never fed, never experienced the hunger that I’ve seen overtake Theron.”

Brett hooked a finger through the chains crisscrossing Rowan’s chest and gave a tug. “I know you won’t hurt me.” He closed the space between their faces. “I trust you,” he whispered.

Brett’s cock throbbed. He was already under the powerful effects of some unknown intoxication.
Eternity
. Or he could have tonight.

Brett glided his lips over Rowan’s. Lips parted and he slid his tongue into the cool, cavernous depths of Rowan’s mouth. A low groan rumbled from his chest. In a flare of desire, he had his hands in Rowan’s hair, angling his head and dipping in for tastes of his delicious mouth. His cock raged in his pants and his ass clenched. He was hot. So hot. His skin burned and his heart thundered within his chest. Blood pumped hard through him, swelling his veins, especially the ones running the length of his cock. Burning need pooled in his balls.

They stumbled on the stairs, kissing, touching and stripping. Clothing littered the floor. Brett led them to the bed, dragging Rowan down as he dropped to his back. Rowan rested chest to chest, sliding his mouth over Brett’s. “My gums ache. What if I can’t stop? Somewhere in those toys, you didn’t happen to buy a ball gag?”

BOOK: Ice Man
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